


Let Me Lead

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [239]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Female Bucky Barnes, Genderswap, M/M, Magic or Whatever, Masturbation, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 23:13:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18108479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: It’s not the first time Steve’s ever woken up to the sound of Bucky swearing.





	Let Me Lead

“What the _fuck_!”

It’s not the first time Steve’s ever woken up to the sound of Bucky swearing. Cold water in the hot tap back in Brooklyn; an ice storm in France that had frozen his boots; that first time Stark had slept over and accidentally pushed Buck out of bed: all incidents worthy of pre-dawn profanity.

But this particular interjection has a different sort of ring. Maybe because the throat it’s coming from belongs to a woman. A woman who’s a dead ringer for Buck.

“It is me, asshole!” Bucky says. His eyes are wild, lurching towards panic. “At least I think so."

He’s bolt upright in the bed, shaking, and it only makes sense for Steve to sit up, too, to sit up and fold Buck in his arms.

“Baby,” Steve murmurs. “Hey, it’s all right. You’re ok.”

Bucky holds on to him harder, skin against skin. “Jesus, I have tits, Steve, and my dick’s MIA. Pretty sure that’s the textbook definition of _not ok_.”

“Fair point. But they’re nice tits.”

“How do you know that?”

“Well, they’re yours, for one thing.”

Bucky groans. The sound’s familiar even if the octave isn’t. “Oh, come on.”

“What? They feel nice.” And they do, actually, pressed soft against his chest. Shaking a little with each rush of Bucky’s breath. “Can I touch them? ”

“Steve.”

Steve kisses Bucky’s forehead and lets his fingers drift. “Mmm, come on. Just for a second.”

“Are you seriously asking if you can feel me up?”

“Yes.”

Bucky shivers, digs his nails into Steve’s shoulder. Ah, ok. He has nails. “Tell me something.”

He finds the curve of one, cups it. Grins when Bucky gasps. “What?”

“You ever gotten to second base before, Rogers?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, his thumb moving slowly, stroking. “But it’s been a while.”

“Huh,” Bucky says. His fingers curl around Steve’s wrist, stop him. “Then maybe you should let me lead.”

Which is how Steve ends up with his back to the headboard and this new-and-still-Bucky Bucky spread over his lap, his tits in Steve’s face, his hands wild in Steve’s hair.

“Just the tip of your tongue,” Bucky mutters. “Right there, right--oh Steve, shit. Just like that. Ah, fuck.” His head falls back, dark curls kissing the brace of Steve’s arm. “Mmmm, god yes. Now do the other one.”

When he asks for it, Steve sucks him, takes each pretty peach swell into the well of his mouth and Bucky moans. His presses closer and his head falls back and he comes up higher on his knees and Steve can feel the heat of him, the soft wet of Bucky’s new body, the place he’s suddenly dying to touch.

“You don’t know.” Bucky’s voice is a cracked mirror, a thousand rainbow shards. “Oh my god, baby. You have no idea how good that feels.”

Steve lifts his mouth. “Mmmm, tell me.”

“I can’t. I can’t right now.” Bucky’s hips shift, his heat catching the tip of Steve’s dick. They both gasp. “Steve, please.”

His hands are on Bucky’s ass, squeezing, urging Buck to move again, to take up a rhythm. “Please what?”

“I don’t know!”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, fuck you, I don’t--!”

Steve kisses him, swallows that hungry little sob. Whispers: “Touch yourself, Buck. Show me how you want me to do it. Show me how I can make you feel good.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice.

Bucky tumbles out of his lap and stretches out on his back and looks at Steve through those familiar eyes, eyes he’d know anywhere, on any body, the ones that shattered his world when he’d seen him again on that bridge years ago, in that knife fight, murderous and driven and so not himself but when the mask had fallen and Steve had let himself see, let himself think it was possible, he wondered how he hadn’t known it at once. Decades out of time, wearing a metal arm, dressed in a woman’s body--it didn’t matter what the outside of him said; in those blue eyes, under them, he’d always be Bucky.

“Oh,” Bucky says now, faintly, running his fingertips over the damp hair, down the gentle rise between his thighs. “That’s--mmmm. That’s different.”

“Yeah?” Steve was kneeling between Bucky’s legs, watching, not quite ignoring his cock. “It’s pretty.”

“It feels good. Just doing this.”

“Good.”

Bucky’s face flushes and he closes his eyes, aims his hand lower. “Fuck, Steve.”

“Hmmm?”

Bucky arches his back. “You made me so wet.”

 _God_. Steve can’t breathe. Hell, he doesn’t need to. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” A sweet echo. The soft squelch of two fingers easing in, sliding out.

“All this from me kissing your tits?”

“Yes, fuck. I told you it felt...! Oh, god.”

He leans down, Steve does. Spreads his knees to catch Bucky’s hips in between. “Don’t stop,” Steve says. “Keep touching your pretty little pussy, baby.”

Then he lowers his head and bites at each tight bloom, laps at them, and Bucky lets out a yell.

“Don’t stop,” Steve says again, tucking the words between Bucky’s breasts. “Buck, god. Please don’t stop.”

He knows when Bucky finds his clit because he howls, his free hand clawing at Steve’s neck, his breath coming in big, rabid gasps, cutting off curses: “Oh, _shit._ ”

He flattens his tongue and laps at Bucky’s nipple, ragged, trying to match the speed of Bucky’s finger on his clit, the drag of his knuckles over Steve’s stomach. Bucky’s chanting now, a steady fugue of _yes_ and _Steve_ and _please_ and he’s grinning, Steve can hear it, the _what the fuck_ of those first minutes awake long forgotten. Instead, there is this: Bucky shuddering, Bucky moaning, Bucky coming apart just from this, just from this.

His orgasm shakes his whole body, the bed, and Steve had to pull back a little, has to watch him, that lovely face convulse with unfamiliar pleasure, watch those eyes open up again, blue bottle caps that grow dark when they find his, that match a slow, sneaking smile.

“We should probably call somebody, huh?” Bucky says. “See if we can figure out how this happened.”

“Sure we should.”

“Thor, maybe. His idiot brother could’ve done this to me.” Bucky tugs up his fingers, lifts them towards Steve’s face. “Or Dr. Death. He’s a tricky one, right?”

“Um,” Steve says. Now he’s the one trembling. “You mean Dr. Doom.”

A touch on his cheek, a slide towards his mouth. In. “Oh, yeah. Him.”

“On the other hand,” Bucky sighs a half an hour later, Steve’s spunk on his tits, Steve’s tongue on his clit, “you know, it can wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> ...and then Tony shows up.


End file.
